


Sleeping, Sleeping

by kitoky



Category: Chronicles of Narnia - All Media Types
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-26
Updated: 2015-12-26
Packaged: 2018-05-09 11:55:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,430
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5538944
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kitoky/pseuds/kitoky
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>WARNING: Character death. AU. A scream pierced his thoughts once more, and he locked his eyes from the images he saw in his mind.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sleeping, Sleeping

**Author's Note:**

> Originally published in 2008 over at FF.net. AU. Pevensies-stay in Narnia (mostly movie-based, some book-references).  
> This was written in response to the weekly drabble challenges on susancaspianlivejournal. Prompt #19: red.
> 
> I do not claim ownership of any of these characters. Please do not repost anywhere else without explicit permission.

_**.sleeping, sleeping.** _

 

A gentle finger brushed against the soft cheek, the precious face crumbled at the small touch but fell back into a contented half-sleep.

 

Rocking and rocking.

 

Light breezes caress the tresses of her hair and the billows of her gown. The melodic humming was masked by the rushing waves of the sea below.

 

" _Oh hush thee… my baby…_ "

 

 

...

 

 

Clenching, clenching. He had never seen so much blood, such rich red soaking the blankets that made their way out of the birthing room. Watching the midwives coming in and out, their hair frayed and pressed against the sweat upon their foreheads, he gripped the sword to his side tighter and set his jaw straighter.

 

 _So much blood_ , Peter thought. He had not seen such blood since two years prior when Edmund was struck so coldly by the White Witch's blade. He remembered the pinch of his gloves when he gripped his sword tighter, swung harder, cut deeper. Instantly after seeing Edmund fall, he saw the red in his sight and felt the blood pulsing through his ears. Peter didn't know how much time it had passed when he realized he was kneeling before his fallen brother-in-arms. The pain on Ed's face, the desperate shaking of Lucy's hand upon her cordial… He had not seen so much blood since then. Not more than the mere scratches and bruises from the fights he got in back in London… Until now.

 

A scream pierced his thoughts once more, and he locked his eyes from the images he saw in his mind.

 

Two years … or thirteen hundred years prior. He did not know time anymore, but time always stops when there is blood.

 

...

 

"Is that approval then, Peter?" Susan asked, voice carrying along the breeze that came through the open window of his study. The sunlight shined against the angles of the colored windows, casting an amber glow on the marble floor. The High King, from his chair, observed the gentleness of his sister as she reached into the birdcage and lifted the bird (and they made sure it was not a Bird) out onto her finger. Cooing to it softly, she glanced at Peter out of the corner of her eyes.

 

"He's a good man," said Susan, walking along the wall showing the bird the new angles of the study. Caspian, the good man, had confronted Peter the day before, requesting to court the Gentle Queen. "He's so different from all the rest of his kind."

 

"That could be debated," Peter's gave Susan a heavy look. "We've only been able to get one of the colonies to abide under our rule. Realistically, we haven't even gotten more than half of the Telmarines joined under one Narnia yet."

 

Susan lowered the bird and turned to a table set with old maps and large circular trinkets. Gifts from Professor Cornelius, she was sure. Mumbling her thoughts, she didn't realize how discernable the words were.

 

"Excuse me?" Peter's voice made her turn slightly. "A marriage could potentially do no more good than a treaty." His tone was reprimanding, but hesitant.

 

"Perhaps we should send some of the noblewomen out to be married instead of a treaty," Susan bit back. The scarlet tanager upon her finger scuttled slightly at the waves of tension now present in the room. "It would do no more good, and the word 'treaty' is always so tiresome to hear. Let's just throw in marriage to mix it up a little."

 

Peter set his footing, "Susan."

 

"I love him, Peter." Susan looked at him squarely in the eyes, determined and gentle. "Perhaps I've the only heart that realizes it."

 

The High King quickly averted his eyes, not liking the sad sincerity that reflected in his sister's. There was a moment of silence, Peter feeling as though he was compelled to speak. A word of empathy, maybe? Susan was treading a fine line, something he wasn't too happy about. But he wasn't blind nor deaf for that matter. He had seen most of the interactions between Queen Susan and the newly crowned King Caspian. And of the ones he hadn't, he made sure to ambush and question those who did.

 

They were _both_ treading a fine line. Who is to say that Susan would marry this Telmarine? Years ago, in the Golden Age, she wouldn't have given any of the suitors a single thought. Except for Prince Rabadash, but the Pevensies weren't sure if she was serious or curious. Aslan never indicated any wish for any of them to marry, so why would Susan feel so inclined to take the hand of this… this… Telmarine? Peter silently rolled his eyes at his poor argument.

 

His thoughts were disturbed when he heard the rattling of the bird's cage and Susan had placed the scarlet tanager back in her home.

 

"Lucy's found a family of Beavers near the castle." Susan said, her words awkward at the change of subject. "She made an appointment for she and I have to have tea with them." The excuse to leave was formal, and there was a tone of resignation in her voice. She had never spoken to him like that since they had lost Edmund to the White Witch.

 

Before Peter could give a word of comfort, she turned and left the study leaving Peter at a loss for all words.

 

A day later, Caspian had received the High King's blessing to marry the Gentle Queen.

 

 

...

 

 

Trembling, trembling. Lucy gripped the blankets tighter. Spoke more commanding words. Her senses were running wild and her mind completely crowded. Between the shouts of her own orders, the hustling of the midwife and her assistants, the pounding of her head, she could only decipher that everything was red. And she is certain she won't remember much more than red. She pulled another soaked blanket out and shoved it away at a servant.

 

She felt weak fingertips trying to feel for her head and clasped them when her thoughts turned to Susan, who looked tired and exhausted as she had ever seen her.

 

"Lu…" Lucy watched as Susan could barely make words, the sweat mingled with tears rolling off her face. The younger Pevensie couldn't think of anything to say, but knelt beside her sister and held her hand tightly. She heard a sudden sharp gasp from her sister, and clamped her eyes shut as another shriek pierced the room, the vibrations of pain evident enough to bring tears to her own eyes.

 

Her heartbeat raced as Susan made out in between breaths, "Lucy-I ca—I can't!" The gentle, soothing queen writhed with pain and squeezed the hands she held harder. "Oh, Aslan…"

 

"Susan," Lucy finally said, yet only in a whisper. Trembling, trembling. "I—it's going to be okay. You can do this. Y-you can make it." Lucy had always felt confident in her words. Of all the times she had spent in councils and politics and any lessons of commonsense faith to be taught, she spoke with great pride—great resonance. But her words were desperate and hollow and Susan didn't seem to take comfort in them, and neither did she.

 

 

...

 

 

"There has got to be some raspberry tarts somewhere around here," Susan muttered, opening cupboard after cupboard in the kitchens late at night. Lucy yawned widely from her spot at the table.

 

"It's almost one… or two… or _very late_ , Susan," Lucy said sleepily, too tired to be shocked that she was the one pointing this out.

 

Her older sister glanced over her shoulder at Lucy, "So it is." She opened this and that. Few moments later, she sighed. "I'm sorry, Lucy. It's just… I haven't been able to sleep very well lately." She paused, glancing over at the half-asleep queen behind her. "I get these… you know, cravings for all sorts of foods."

 

"So why is it that you've had to drag _me_ down here for?" The Valiant Queen peeked an eye open to observe her suddenly nervous sister. "Why not Caspian?"

 

Susan gave a wry smile, where her lips sunk into a more thinning line. "He has been tired lately."

 

"Tired? Not of you, of course." Lucy knew how to say all the right words.

 

"No," smiled Susan. "They're getting very close to getting the treaty with the Lord of Myacer. 'Very soon, Susan. He'll be begging us to join an alliance!' Caspian says." She shook her head. "He needs his sleep."

 

Lucy mumbled something and Susan gave her a soft look. She was near adulthood, shocking as it would seem, but still held that carefree innocence sometimes.

 

Susan leaned against the table across from Lucy, hands on each side. "You know, Lu. I've something to tell you."

 

More mumbling and what Susan thought to be a nod of the head.

 

"I'm expecting, Lu." She said in a deliberate low voice. "… Lucy?"

 

Lucy cracked her eyes opened and lifted her cheek from the palm of her hand. "Yes? Expecting? Expecting who?"

 

Susan gave a playful shrug, "Just… expecting."

 

Lucy frowned and her eyebrows furrowed in frustrated tiredness. "Honestly, Su. I'm not at all in the right state to be playing games and thinking through riddles. If you're expecting someone or something, then you should just let it out and say you're expe—" She paused, eyes wide. "Oh."

 

"Oh." Susan nodded, a mischievous smirk on her lips.

 

"Well- I mean, does-." Lucy sighed into her hands at her lack of comprehending thought. "Peter and Ed are going to have a cow. Several cows."

 

Susan rolled her eyes and sighed, "Yes. Yes, they certainly will."

 

"Are you planning on telling them soon?" Lucy asked, having a feeling that a force greater than the vast Telmarine army (when they were on the opposite side) was upon them.

 

Susan bit her lip. "Tomorrow, I've decided."

 

"We-. I … why did you wake me up for? I've got to get some sleep in." Lucy said, getting up from her chair. "I can't be half asleep when Peter and Edmund finally lose it. Oh, I've got to warn Trumpkin!" Lucy turned and rushed away, but paused shortly before the entrance. "Oh, and Edmund hid the tarts in the third cupboard on the bottom from the left. Goodnight!"

 

"That rascal!" Susan exclaimed and instantly dove for the third cupboard on the bottom from the left.

 

 

...

 

 

Clatter, clatter. The knight displaced the pawn. Clatter, clatter. The rook was taken by the king. Clatter, clatter. The Bishop took away the Queen.

 

"King Edmund." Cornelius spoke slowly.

 

Edmund shook his head furiously; nose flared, eyes sharp. "Make your move."

 

Professor Cornelius conservatively shifted his Queen back home. Edmund struck out and moved his knight offensively. "Your Majesty-."

 

"No." Edmund grinded out. He looked up from the board but glanced down just as quickly. "I'm sorry, I just… just… make your move."

 

The professor nodded, understanding the need for distraction from what was happening in another part of the palace. He noticed that the young king kept sporadically peering over to the small settee in the corner.

 

 

...

 

 

Silence was comfortable, Edmund believed. But not with his sisters. Lucy, especially. Edmund managed to get some comfortable silences with Susan when she's preoccupied with a book. He never understood why they always seemed to end up in silence when Susan pressed on the matter of 'spending time with him' or that 'he's working himself too hard'. She would be on the red settee, book propped open, and so quiet he forgot she was there from time to time. Usually he'd be at this desk, writing the documents needed of the treaties, agreements, and supply reports.

 

This time, she looked particularly uncomfortable. Mind you, he's very well aware that she's nearly due. Her bulging stomach tends to get hard not to notice five months after they'd been told what _it_ was. Peter had only started using the B-word last week. She shifted a bit and readjusted the book of ballads around the protruding presence in front of her.

 

"Um… Susan?" Edmund asked uneasily, capping his quill.

 

She looked up with surprise at the silence being broken. "Is something wrong?"

 

"No, I just-," Edmund paused. He glanced around quickly. "Do you… I dunno, want to do something? A game of chess, maybe?" He stood and made his way towards her.

 

Susan gave him a helpless look. "Chess? Edmund, you know I'm rubbish at that game."

 

"Yes," Susan glared. "But… why not? It'll be something to do."

 

She hesitated, he saw, but smiled and closed her book. Susan took her brother's outstretched hand, grateful for the help in getting up. It was getting harder every day and she always wondered how their mother always dealt with it.

 

"On one condition," she started. "You know the moves you think of right after your opponent has just gone?"

 

Edmund nodded, a look of confusion on his face.

 

"Make the second move you think of." Susan gave him a look and moved to the table with the board was always laid out. Edmund just smiled and sat down. Susan had the whites so she made her move: the typical pawn up two paces.

 

"So…" Edmund trailed off, trying to think of something. "Have you picked out a name for _it_?" He moved his own pawn.

 

Susan simply rolled her eyes, "We've decided to name him Humphrey. It's a great name. Very manly in a very manly way."

 

"I was just asking," Edmund said, musing at the way she humored him.

 

Susan tried to settle her grin and moved her knight. "No, we haven't. We've talked about it, but nothing seems to be right." She watched as Edmund shifted his bishop. "What do you think?"

 

"Me? You mean for a name for it?" At her nod, he leaned back against his chair wiping imaginary sweat off the palm of his hands. "Well… I dunno. It's not really for -."

 

"Ed," Susan chastised him, giving a pleading look.

 

He sighed. He said the first name that came to mind. "How about… Rilian?"

 

Susan brushed a hand across her belly and looked up. "Rilian," she tested the name on her tongue. "Rilian." She smiled. "I like it. Rilian."

 

Edmund stared at her, shocked that his two-second thought was actually considered. "I was just-."

 

"No, no." Susan reassured him. "I love it, actually. It's brilliant. Rilian. Good name for a boy."

 

He quirked an eyebrow, "How do you know it's going to be a boy?"

 

One side of her mouth turned up and she gave a half-hearted eye roll. "Caspian's sure of it, and so are the naiads and dryads and the fauns. They apparently saw the same lining of the stars!" Susan waved her hands with mocking excitement. "They were sure about twins last week, so I'm sure their predictons will change soon."

 

The just king slowly nodded and gave an awkward smile, which bloomed into a full grin at the pure joy in his sister's eyes. "Rilian."

 

She nodded, still smiling. "Yes. Rilian."

 

They settled into a silence again, the only sound being the clicking and clacking of the chess pieces.

 

 

...

 

 

Pacing, pacing. Caspian's patience was running thin and his worry could only stretch so far. Each scream that pierced his ears created more blood to seep from his palms. Emotions raged within him. He couldn't do anything. He couldn't _help_ her when she needed him. All he could do was wait outside the birthing chambers, only able to peek when a servant came in and out. The glimpses made his throat constrict and his heart hurt. He and his fellow sovereigns have waited for nearly a whole day, from the moment Susan cried at the pain of the baby early at breakfast that morning to the screams that seemed to echo late into the evening.

 

He swallowed something hard, and he could not turn away from the doors that barred him from his beloved. She was mere yards away, but he felt so far away. So detached.

 

 _Susan_ … Caspian repeated her name in a silent mantra, wanting nothing more but for her to hear him, to know that he was there, whether or not he really was. _Susan_ …

 

 

...

 

 

"Favorite color?" Susan quizzed.

 

"Red." Caspian provided the answer and offered, "Favorite animal."

 

"Destrier, too easy." Susan said. "Favorite food."

 

"Those ridiculous raspberry tarts."

 

"Hah! No. My mother's stroganoff." Susan clapped her hands excitedly at the prospect of winning the game. Caspian propped himself up on his elbows from the blanket on the grass.

 

"Stroganoff?!" Caspian exclaimed, upset at losing. "What is that?"

 

Susan faltered, "Well, it's this sort of Russian dish where you flour up beef pieces and sauté them with bouillon…" She stopped when she noticed that the confused expression on Caspian's face wasn't going to disappear. "… Nevermind."

 

"I don't know what it is… so it doesn't count." Caspian pronounced and poured himself another drink from the picnic basket.

 

His wife grinned, but didn't question it. They knew who won and who lost and Susan was fine with that. She looked up at the evening sky and rubbed her stomach, which had grown to such a huge size she didn't want to acknowledge it. The time was near, she knew, and each day was greeted with more anxiousness than she had let show. She had seen the miracles of birth, being a midwife to the wives in the noble houses. Her reputation as the Gentle Queen had preceded her as she was requested more and more, until they had discovered she was with a child of her own. She had seen the tears of joy and the tears of despair. Susan knows the risks and hoped that she would have happy tears when the baby would come.

 

Susan caught Caspian's stare out of the corner of her eye, his gaze not moving from her even as he sipped on his glass of wine. If he knew of such currency, he might've said, 'A penny for your thoughts?' But as he did not, Susan gave a small smile at his, "What are you thinking?"

 

"I'm just… thinking," replied Susan, her hand still rubbing her abdomen. "He'll grow up to be like you. If Peter doesn't get to him first, that is."

 

Caspian laughed, his dark eyes somehow shining against the coming dark of night. Setting down his glass, he laid down beside her with the top of his head angled into the crook of her neck. "With any luck, he won't have to be anything like me. I don't want him to have to grow up without his parents, have to fight a war, rebuild a nation… It's all been so tedious."

 

"With any luck," Susan turned towards him so they were face to face. "All you've done, all that you and Peter and Edmund have done, will last. So that this little one," cradled the bulge. "Won't have much to do yet. No, I'm still going to believe that he'll be just like you. Strong, courageous, and handsome beyond reason."

 

They both laughed, and Caspian scooted closer to his wife. "Here, I thought you didn't just love me for my good looks."

 

Susan avoided his kisses with giggles, "Are you willing to show me other aspects that you think I might like?"

 

"Able and very, very willing." Caspian responded, finally getting a proper kiss.

 

 

...

 

 

The Kings of Narnia looked up abruptly when the door was opened once more, and this time Lucy's face emerged before them. Loved, she was and joy, she brought but the kings saw the slacken look of her face, the tears that had no end, and their own faces were drained of every hope they may have had. Numbly, she moved forward to Peter, burying her face into his shoulder. The High King felt paralyzed, but knew he was clinging onto her as tightly as she was to him. Edmund made his way over to the pair, his steps slow and unsure. Peter looked up to see the hollow look in his eyes, and knew it was the same expression he wore. With one arm around Lucy, he pulled Edmund in by the shoulders.

 

Their tears seemed to mingle and their sobs echoed against each other in a desperate unspoken plea to turn the back the clock to happier times when there was more laughter than what tears they wept.

 

Peter, clenching his jaw and only vaguely aware that the tears still blurred his vision, saw the stoic Caspian, rooted to his place in the room. Before he could utter a word, Caspian bolted through the doors of the birthing chambers, and Peter heard the shouts of orders to the servants and midwives. They did not hesitate to quickly file out, abandoning everything in the room. All was quiet, and for a long time Peter didn't dare to see that the images of his mind earlier that day would be true. But fears are to be met as Lucy had met hers to be able to go into the birthing rooms for Susan's own comfort.

 

He tightened his hold on his youngest sister, feeling empty from the loss and saddened by Lucy's valiance. He gently let go, giving Lucy a teary kiss on the head and a reassuring pat on Edmund's shoulder and headed towards the birthing chambers. Peter saw that Edmund and Lucy made no move to follow him and he felt even more afraid to go through the doors. With a few moments, he pushed open the doors and disappeared behind them.

 

The room was dark, as it was well past dusk. The moonlight peeked through the windows and all he saw were shadows from the diminishing candles. His eyes turned steadily to the figures near the center of the room.

 

His beautiful sister laid still and pale upon the bed and she seemed to simply be sleeping and he would've believed it if it weren't for the undeniable amount of red all around her. He felt sick to the stomach with shock and grief, the gnawing aches in his heart and the desperate stinging of his nose. Peter averted his eyes to the figure by her side, hunched over and holding something in his arms.

 

"C- Ca," Peter swallowed. "Caspian."

 

The silhouette moved no more than turn its head. "It was a boy."

 

"Was?" Peter managed to get out, realizing that more than one life was taken that night.

 

"There was too much blood. She-," Caspian took a breath, hanging his head further down against the wrapped bundle. "She died in pain. She died all alone."

 

Peter could've said that she didn't die alone. She had Lucy with her, but he knew Caspian spoke from despair and despair was what reigned over all of them right then.

 

"I was supposed to keep her safe, Peter." Caspian choked. "I was supposed to protect her from all the evils in the world. That was my promise to you… to her." His head hung even lower then. "And I couldn't even protect her from this."

 

The oldest Pevensie knew nothing could ease Caspian's pain, his guilt. He felt it himself, the regret that he couldn't hold at bay. "Aslan wi-."

 

"Aslan be damned, Peter!" Caspian shouted, his eyes snapping open and gleaming in Peter's direction. "What has _Aslan_ done this time? Nothing! He left her! Abandoned her to face death alone. Where is he, Peter? Do you see him here? Do you?"

 

Peter clenched his jaw, unable to respond. He had his doubts in Aslan from time to time, but his faith remained true despite the challenges. When Edmund was taken by the White Witch, he found his faith in Aslan. When they retook Narnia from the Telmarines, he doubted his purpose but never his love for the Great Lion. Was this his next challenge? Peter wondered. Has he not proven himself?

 

"All my life, everything I've loved seemed to be stripped away from me." Caspian said, looking down at Susan's peaceful face. "Why did I ever think it should be any different?"

 

Again, Peter said nothing. Unable to think, to discern, to interpret all the events of the world, of what had happened here, and why. He could only hope that, like what father used to tell them before they tucked into their beds, angels may come before the end and take them up to heaven. He hoped that Susan was there now, wherever 'there' might be. And he hoped, for Caspian's sake, her death did not cause him to be consumed by darkness and to a place where angels could not reach him.

 

He left the chambers and allowed Caspian to grieve as they all needed to grieve. As all of Narnia needed to grieve…

 

 

...

 

 

"Queen Susan," the thundering voice came behind her. She turned and she saw the brightness of his mane and the love in his eyes.

 

"Aslan." She smiled and stepped to meet him away from the cliff. She gave him a gentle embrace and he breathed warmth over the bundle in her arms. The infant squirmed and opened his eyes to the mighty face of the Great Lion. Susan smiled down at him and looked to Aslan. "Will they be all right?"

 

Amber eyes looked down into the vast ocean and it seemed the blue was neverending. "They have many obstacles ahead of them, but yes. They will be all right, in time." Aslan said. "Everything in their own time, Susan. Yours was now. Do you regret it?"

 

She paused and looked out into the ocean again. At one point in her life, she may have found it unfair. When they had fallen out of the wardrobe and forced to live a whole year with no news of Aslan or Narnia, she had found it unfair. They were given a second chance. She wanted to live it all out with Caspian and with her brothers and her dear little sister. But this place… wherever it is, it gave her a sense of peace and enlightenment she never felt before. The past few months, when she had been left alone with her thoughts and the presence of life within her, she was reminded of that familiar unending love. The little boy squirmed once more, confused from being awoken. She smiled softly down at him and shook her head. "No. Not this time."

 

The great mane bristled and shook, and his eyes filled with even more love than Susan could ever believe was possible. She even suspected that maybe he had already knew her answer.

 

"Come, Susan." He started to walk away. "I would like you to see my country."

 

_Fin._


End file.
